


Not a Creature was Stirring

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Queer Relationship, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Gift Giving, Introspection, M/M, Melancholy, Radio boyfriends, Secret Santa, Teasing, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2860406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Eugene manage to have one last Christmas after the apocalypse while out on the road. ZR Secret Santa for doodledinmypants</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Creature was Stirring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doodledinmypants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodledinmypants/gifts).



“Gene, look! Lights!” Jack pulled his cold fingers free of Eugene's hand and pointed wildly over the crest of the hill.

“What? You must be seeing things.” Eugene hefted his back further up on his shoulders and peered in the direction that Jack was pointing. It was getting dark, the horizon turning pink at the edges, and all that he could see was fields and trees. It was all they'd seen all day, except for a brief foray through a muddy copse of trees. They needed to find shelter soon.

“Well obviously I am seeing things,” Jack said, and Eugene tried not to stare too much at the sulk of his lip. “I am seeing lights. Come on, you must be able to see them!” He gestured wildly again but Eugene saw nothing. 

“I guess there could be something,” he said, and knew that he probably sounded even less convinced than he felt. “That direction's as good as any I suppose.”

Jack huffed, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He set off walking again, and Eugene, after a moment to check that they were clear, followed. This far out, away from the cities and even the smaller towns, things seemed quieter. Lower populations to get infected, Eugene supposed. Still, it didn't pay to be careless. They'd holed up in a farmhouse a couple of days ago, in the middle of nowhere, and had woken up to the zombies clawing at the door. Only quick thinking and a back door had let them escape.

Mist had rolled in over the last hour, and it clung to Eugene's coat. The sky was white, that luminous type of cloud that hinted at snow. Cancelled flights were the least of his worries. What wouldn't he give to be stuck in an airport right now, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep on a shitty uncomfortable seat. 

“Look, over there! It is lights!”

Jack rounded on him and tugged him over, pointing fiercely. He had a triumphant grin. Eugene looked, about to insist he couldn't see anything, only to pause. There did seem to be a light just around the bend of the road, something twinkling in the trees.

“That could be anything, Jack,” he said. It could just be the last sunlight glinting off a greenhouse for all they knew. 

“Eugene.”

Eugene sighed and shook his head, but he was smiling. There was something about Jack's scowling expression that got that reaction from him. “Alright, we'll take a look. If we get eaten by the hordes of the undead though, it is all your fault.”

“I will accept that risk gladly.” A nudge against Eugene's shoulder followed. “It'll be fine. You'll see.”

The curve in the road was further than it had seemed, and it was nearly full dark by the time they reached it and could see the lights. And they were lights, beads of colour wrapped around the trees in the yard of a cottage, tangled in the branches. 

He heard Jack suck in a breath. “Look 'Gene! I told you! They have electricity! Oh my god, what if they have TV. What if- what if the apocalypse is _over_?”

The hope in those words twisted painfully in Eugene's chest, froze the breath in his lungs for one sharp moment. What if? What if... The lights had gone out a few weeks ago, maybe a month. The radio had stopped playing anything but static before that. Phone and internet signal had flickered on and off convulsively since the outbreak, before going dead altogether. To see lights like this, real lights...

Neither of them made a move towards the building. 

Eugene looked at Jack, profile silhouetted against the sky and the glowing fairy lights. Maybe he wouldn't give everything to be at the airport. “C'mon dummy. We should check, right? And I don't want to spend another night in a ditch.”

“Awww, I don't know,” Jack said, “I thought the ditch was quite cosy. Huddling together for warmth, stargazing.”

“Waiting for the undead to eat our brains,” Eugene said. “You are such an idiot.”

He slipped his hand into Jack's, squeezing it. His fingers felt like ice. They definitely needed to warm up.

“Ooooh, pot calling the kettle black there Mr Woods.”

“Dummy,” Eugene muttered, but it was hard to keep up any pretences when Jack leaned in to kiss him. 

The gate squeaked when Jack opened it. They both flinched, a nervous prey reaction to the sound. Nothing groaned from the darkness at them and their laughter was breathless. The garden looked as though it had been well tended once, although it had started to get overgrown, the grass a little too long, dead leaves piling across the lawn and the path. 

“Do you think there's anyone in?” Jack asked. There was no light in the windows that they could see, but that didn't mean no-one was there. They could be at the back.

“One way to find out.” He took a steadying breath before knocking at the door. The sound pierced the air, and he was sure that it wasn't really as loud as a gunshot, but it certainly felt that way.

No answer. 

The door was locked but they found a key underneath a flowerpot before Jack resorted to some unconvincing looking kung-fu to smash it down. Inside, the hallway was neat and clean, no signs of struggle. No signs of blood. No sound either, human or otherwise. Jack gave WG a test swing and ducked into the first room while Eugene continued along the hallway. Kitchen, empty. Dining room, empty. Disappointment lurched in Eugene's stomach, shoulders slumping.

“Living room's empty Gene,” Jack called, reappearing a moment later. “Not even a sign of anyone being here. Maybe they went away for Christmas.”

Or maybe they got eaten before they got the chance, but Eugene didn't say that. No-one needed to say that. “Yeah, they probably did.” 

Maybe they were holed up with relatives somewhere in a nice farm on a hillside on a Scottish island. Yeah, they'd go with that.

The upstairs was clear as well. Eugene was sickly relieved that none of the rooms looked like they belonged to a child. There was a king-size bed in one room though, and it certainly beat a hayloft or the back room of a shop or any of the other places they'd holed up in over the past few weeks. He tramped back down the stairs to find Jack in the kitchen. He'd bolted the doors, secured them as much as he could, and had already started raiding the kitchen cabinets for food. Even the fridge had been opened; although most of it was rotten by now, there were a couple of bottles of Coke and...

“Wine!” Jack beamed at him and set the bottle of white, half empty, on the table, looking like a kid who'd just found that the biggest present under the tree was for him. 

“I'm not sure that's a good idea, Jack.” Don't mix alcohol and zombies. Those government PSAs had never covered that.

“Awww, c'mon. It's just a little. It'll be nice! A proper meal. Well, a proper meal of tinned meat and pasta but I'm sure white wine goes with spam right? You're the gourmet.”

Eugene snorted. “I'm not sure that's a combination anyone anticipated. What if we get attacked? I don't want to face the undead while drunk.” 

“It's half a bottle Gene. And if they do then we just find out if they like their brains marinated.”

It was so horrible, so wrong, that Eugene had to laugh, a startled sound. “Okay. Okay, a sip. I think they had one of those big porcelain bathtubs upstairs if we wanted to try cooking.” 

“Sounds great. You cook, I shall provide the wine and the entertainment.”

“I swear Jack, if you just recite Blackadder again, I will kill you.”

“Oi! You are dishonouring my cultural heritage!”

“You are such an idiot.”

Jack grinned at him, swigged wine straight from the bottle, and vanished upstairs while Eugene was still growling in disgust.

A meal later, when their eyes stung and their clothes smelled of smoke from the fire they'd set in the bathtub (after deactivating the smoke alarms with a certain amount of prejudice), they headed back down to do another sweep of the building. The moon threw the back garden into sharp relief, the neat beds just beginning to lose their shape as the wild encroached, a few scraggly weeds that were able to survive the cold poking through the patio. He wasn't an expert, but Eugene was sure that when summer came, this place wouldn't last long. There'd been a programme he'd seen once about how little time it took for evidence of humanity to vanish after civilisation ended, how ephemeral they were in the greater scheme of things. 

Even if they survived, some day they'd be gone too.

Eugene swallowed around the lump in his throat and headed back inside. Together, he and Jack locked the patio door and shoved a heavy cabinet over it. There was a low roof over the kitchen, and the bedroom window looked out over it; a reasonable escape plan if it came to it. 

Jack paused in the doorway. “Are you alright Gene? You look...”

His fingers fluttered in a gesture of helplessness. Eugene took a breath and nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah I- I'm fine. I think it's just the Christmas lights y'know? My dad would always put them on one of the trees in our yard when I was a kid. It was the first thing I'd see when I got home from school in the dark each day.”

The look on Jack's face was soft and fond and Eugene turned his head away, sure that he was blushing. Jack took a step forward, close enough to touch, and he did that, taking Eugene's hands in his own. “It's pretty early still, Gene,” he said, his smile telling Eugene everything he needed to know. “We never did get to do the 'making out on a sofa' part of any relationship.”

“Yeah, we just skipped to the 'running from hordes of the ravenous undead' bit. My mom always warned me about that bit.”

Jack laughed and leaned in to kiss Eugene, a gentle brush of lips that lingered, turning into more and deeper. His hands slid down Eugene's back to hook in the waistband of his jeans. He's started sliding them down by the time Eugene regained himself enough to bat his hands away. 

“I just can't take you anywhere,” Eugene said, leaning in for another quick kiss.

“I, sir, am a delight,” Jack said. He drew himself up to his full height, hands on his hips. “Anyone would be delighted to take me to an apocalypse.”

“So how come I'm the only one dumb enough to pick you up?”

“Ow, I'm wounded.” Jack said. “And because you're my idiot.”

“You're such a charmer.”

The house was silent and still, and Eugene could almost believe that that was it, they were safe and would wake up tomorrow. On holiday. That was it. Just a holiday. As they passed the door to the living room, he caught sight of something, and paused to peer inside. The moon was bright and full through the window, enough light to see the tree set up, glass and metal baubles glinted on the branches.

“You okay Gene?” Jack said, turning on the bottom stair.

“Yeah. I hadn't realised it was that close to Christmas. I guess I forgot.” Time passed pretty strangely when you were running for your life. Maybe he just hadn't been paying enough attention.

“Yeah, I mean, it could be Christmas Eve for we know. Not that it really matters, I guess.” Jack's voice dropped quiet and when Eugene looked, he had his arms wrapped around himself. “I was meant to go home to see mum. Had the train ticket and everything.” He looked very young suddenly, pale and wan and he was shivering in his thin sweater. They hadn't had much chance to pick out new clothes.

Eugene glanced back at the tree and then held his hand out to Jack. “C'mere.”

“What?”

“Just... just come here.”

The living room didn't have a fireplace, nowhere to hang stockings. It was probably a good thing. You couldn't be disappointed when you weren't expecting anything. There was light enough for them to settled together on the sofa though, Jack held firm against Eugene's chest, a thick throw pulled around them. Eugene kept glancing at the window, straining for any sound, expecting at any moment to see a rotting face appear at the window, but there was nothing except the sound of their breathing. Jack pulled out his battered iPod, and the speaker began a soft rendition of something that Eugene vaguely recognised from Muppet Christmas Carol. It was a little strange after not hearing anything outside of headphones since the outbreak. It set him on edge but he didn't try to stop him.

“Have you got a Christmas playlist?” he asked, amused, lips pressed against Jack's hair. Jack with his fast beat rave tunes, designed for people high on adrenaline or more, had an iPod full of old Christmas songs.

“What if I do?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Eugene replied. Jack peered up at him, pouting. 

“I am a man of many and diverse tastes, thankyou very much.”

“I'm not sure that taste is quite the word.”

“Rude!”

It cycled through a few tracks, until movement jerked Eugene from his half dozing state. What had he been thinking? 

“Jack?” he asked sharply, fear tight in his chest for one awful moment.

“I'm here Gene,” Jack said from over by the tree. He was shaking each neatly wrapped gift up by his ear. He sat back on his haunches and looked at Eugene. “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“No, you- you should have woken me! Jack, it isn't safe!”

“Here, catch. That one's for you.”

Eugene raised his hands just in time to catch one of the gifts when Jack threw it. He gave Jack a confused look. “What?”

“For you. The present.”

He looked down at the gift. There was a raw white spot where Jack had pulled off the name tag. “Jack we can't do that. It's someone's present.”

“They're not-” Jack began, and took a breath before continuing. “They're not coming back Gene. That food was rotten. You don't leave a full size turkey to rot if you're planning to come back.”

“Still, it's...” His hands tightened, crumpling the paper. An admission that their lives were gone, that the old world wasn't coming back. That they were going to have to do awful things to survive.

“I just thought it would be nice,” Jack said. He met Eugene's eyes. “They're not coming back Gene. They did all this and they're not coming back and maybe... I just thought it would be... like remembering them? And this isn't something we're ever gonna get. Ever since the radio went down it's- I've known it's not coming back. This might be the last normal thing we ever do.”

Eugene's hands felt frozen, that fear welling up again. There was a bloody pipe by the door along with Jack's stained cricket bat. He'd thrown away shirts because of the gore. They'd broken into shops for supplies and stepped over the half eaten remains of the workers.

“It had better not be aftershave again, Jack,” Eugene said, and the smile that spread across Jack's face was worth the lurch when he slipped a finger beneath the wrapping paper.

“Oh god, I should have known you'd be one of those types.”

“What?”

“Those types, the ones who carefully unwrap the presents and save the paper for next year except it just gets buried in a cupboard.”

The paper fell away, not even torn, leaving him with a velvet box of cufflinks. He held them up. “Very classy. Not sure they go with apocalyptic chic.”

“Wow, I have good taste,” Jack said. “Which one's mine?”

Eugene crawled off the couch and poked under the tree before pulling out a large, flat package and handing it over. “Here.”

“Oooh. Have you been buying magazine subscriptions again?”

“Maybe. You'll have to open it to find out.”

Predictably, Jack ripped the paper off, leaving flakes of it across the carpet in his haste. “The Erotic World of Weimar Berlin. Wow Gene, I think we must be kind of kinky.”

Eugene made a mental note to not go rooting through all of the dresser drawers upstairs.

There were terrible Christmas sweaters in one package, which they both pulled on, and perfume that neither of them liked. A set of kitchen knives (“Boooooring, you can't give kitchen utensils as gifts!”) and a large box of chocolates which they opened, eating some before bed.

“Who's taking first watch?” Jack asked when they finally headed upstairs after one final check of the house. It was as safe as they could make it. 

“I will,” Eugene said. “I'll wake you in time to see Santa.”

“I'm not sure how I feel about waking up to find a strange man in my bedroom.”

“Go to sleep Jack!”

“Do I get a goodnight kiss?”

Eugene sighed, rolled his eyes, and leaned in to kiss Jack who clung limpet-like to his neck. 

“Night Gene.”

“Goodnight Jack.”

Eugene shrugged the blanket around his shoulders and went to the window, peering out over the cold night. 

“Not a creature was stirring...”


End file.
